Troubled
by ToWriteForLove
Summary: When life knocks you down...Calmly get back up, smile, and very politely say, 'You hit like a bitch.' I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR FEARLESS..ANYTHING USED FROM THESE BOOKS ARE COMPLETELY THE SOLE RIGHT OF THEIR AUTHORS


My family lives homely in a small 3 bedroom house on the Quileute reservation in Washington. "We" would be my mom, my brother Embry, and I. I don't understand how the bills get paid, because the last time I checked, no one that resided at 345 Holston Street had a current job. It clearly wasn't paid by my dad. He's out of the picture. No letters. No birthday cards. I haven't seen him since I was like 7. I'm 15 now. The worst part about being 15 is that you're not 17. In a year I'll be sixteen, and when you're sixteen, the word sweet is used to describe it. I'm not in a sweet kind of head space.

You see. I have this "handicap". Wrong word… I'm hormonally challenged maybe? I'm never afraid. I just don't have the gene or whatever it is that makes you scared. I'm not saying I'm going out to jump off of any cliffs, but I wouldn't be afraid to. My "little problem" makes my sense work extra well. They say that fear clouds your mind though, I wouldn't know, because I've never known what it feels like to be scared. My name is Rayna Meadow Call. And I'm not afraid of anything. I've never feared snakes, or heights, or spiders, or water. Nothing fazes me. My mom took me to every shaman, psychic, and rain-woman in our tribe, but no one could tell us what was wrong. They figure, if there was a gene for fear, I lacked it. So in a way, I'm fearless. Say you see a huge guy beating up on a smaller. A normal 15 year old girl would run away, right? Not me. I just dive in to destroy the big guy.

I could if I wanted because my brother taught me to. I guess he figured if I was going to keep getting into trouble then I might as well know how to defend myself. He's a werewolf. Or, I'm pretty sure he is. He told me once when he thought I was sleeping. I haven't seen him or heard from him since we talked about 4 months ago. You'd think that not having fear would make life great. That's a lie. In fact, if I had three wishes, one of them would be to know fear. If I don't know fear, how will I know if I'm actually brave? That wouldn't be my first wish though. My first wish would be to have my older brother back. He joined Sam Uley's little gang. I hate Sam; he steals all of the Quileute boys from their families and turns them into steroid induced monsters. My third wish would be… well, it's kind of embarrassing. It would be to end my 15 year stint as Raina the undated. Do I have someone in mind? Of course. Do I think it'll ever happen? Not a chance.

It's even too hard to figure out. You hear people talk about danger and being careful. In my mind I completely get it. But my gut doesn't feel it. If I see someone in trouble I rush to save them without a second thought. I just try to give it all I got, that's a lot, and the fights get pretty intense. Have you ever heard that story about the mom who lifted that car off of her son? See, that's the kind of power regular humans get from adrenaline. Imagine that multiplied by 6, at all times. I don't need the extra adrenaline, without fear there's nothing to stop me from using all of the power that I have. I remember reading about the old warriors in Quileute studies. They were these fantastic hunters that would beat everyone. Nobody could touch them. But after they fought or hunted, they'd shake all over and pretty much slide to the ground. It's like they used up everything in their body. Sometimes, I get so weak that I almost black out, it usually only lasts for a few minutes. There is one more thing that works for me. I can do whatever I want, because I have nothing to lose.

I hardly have a brother, and I have no grandparents. Well, I have one grandmother. But she lives on the other side of La Push. To be honest I've only met her 3 times and let me tell you; that woman is a few beans short of a burrito. My mom disgusts me. She isn't really here anymore. I mean physically she's here with me. But she's not here for me. It's like all she cares about these days are finding a rich husband and getting out of La Push. I mean I understand; no one wants to see La Push in their rear view mirror as much as myself, but she's taking it too far. Like tonight she's going out on a date with Rick Moore. I think he's the doctor, or he may be the dentist. I've lost count and I damn sure won't be able to remember the names. All I know is he's old. Like 67 or something. My mom is much younger; she's only 30 I think. But, you certainly can't tell from the way she dresses. I don't see how in the dead of winter she can manage to wear skin tight booty shorts and find a way to show her belly button. She's got like hundreds of these little bands of fabric and elastic that only count as skirts if you never move your legs. Top that with the glistening red hair, and you've got yourself one hot seventeen year old. At least that what she thinks.

Where was I? Right, telling you my secrets. Well to sum up the rest, there are 3 magic words: I. Don't. Care. I don't have parents, pets, siblings, or even friends. Hell, I don't think there's a lamp or a book that I give a shit about. I DON'T CARE. And there isn't anyone that can make me. Embry used to say that I was "looking for trouble". For an idiot he sure hit it right.

I _AM_ looking for trouble.


End file.
